nine2five 2,10 Pushing Daisies
by Marc Vun Kannon
Summary: The Belgian, trying to steal Charles Carmichael, has driven Chuck to claim his power, and the responsibilities of a spy. Sarah has to pay her debt to Volkoff by breaking his bodyguard Yuri the Gobbler out of prison.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N **BigDaddyDL did a great version of Chuck's return from Thailand, called Somewhere Over the Pacific.

* * *

"_I'm different without Chuck, and I don't like it." _

"_Let's go save her from herself.__"_

"_Doctors Without Borders?"_

"_Miss Walker. Welcome to Volkoff Industries."_

* * *

Casey stood guard. He didn't have to, but he did it anyway.

They'd evacuated Chuck from Thailand the quick and dirty way, taking the boat upriver and leaving the owner to wake up on his own. Mueller wasn't too much of a problem, although they'd hoped for the Belgian. At least they had proof of death, on that front, along with all the portable intel they could gather. The rest burned.

The river took them to the road and the road took them to the border. Once in a more friendly country they got onto a transport that had absolutely nothing to do with them, and off they went, leaving lots of helpful civilians thanking their gods and counting their money.

In Japan the two patients (Ellie's utter exhaustion having finally caught up with her) and their medical team transshipped to a faster and far more comfortable plane. Leaving Carina to direct the corpsman carrying Chuck and Ellie (and God help them if they so much as stubbed a toe under her watchful gaze), Casey went forward to check in.

"Yes, ma'am, We have the Doctor and her patient, although both of them look like patients at the moment."

The General had already consulted with Dr. Dreyfus. "Let them both sleep as much as possible. Did you find…anyone else?"

"Traces of her, ma'am," said Casey. "The scene had been reduced before we got there. The Belgian is dead, and we recovered one of Telescope's knives from the body."

"How do you know it was hers?" Not that Beckman was in any way doubting the description, but it was a detail someone would bring up, if this case ever came to light.

"Because–" The air in the plane must have been pretty dry, Casey's voice caught for a second. "Because we found her ring in the patient's pocket, ma'am."

Sarah only wore one ring. "Oh dear."

"Yes, ma'am." He listened to Beckman think for a few seconds.

"I'll contact Surgeon, and keep him apprised of the situation."

'Surgeon' had to be Devon, but a General, doing her aide's job? "Ma'am?"

"It was _his_ sacrifice that got this whole ball rolling, Colonel, and I am honoring that sacrifice."

No way Ellie would risk herself without Devon's agreement. Fortunately Devon also realized that _rocks_ are afraid of getting between Ellie and a hard place. "Yes, ma'am."

"Get some rest, Colonel," said Beckman. "You'll be in the air a while, and I expect your reports before you land. As long as I have Hannah here, I may as well give her something to do. She's still a bit skittish after her encounter with Volkoff. Helping Sarah in any way might be just the thing. Dismissed."

Casey and Carina drew straws, and Casey won, getting to watch and wait as Ellie and Chuck slept side-by-side, Ellie clutching Chuck's hand like a lifeline. Carina sat somewhere else, brooding over Mueller and what she'd like to do to him. Casey decided to get some shut-eye. Ellie'd worn herself to a shadow, she'd keep. He'd have to relieve Carina before she got bored. They needed the lab geek alive.

It would be a long flight.

* * *

"Miss Walker, do you mind if I ask you a question?" said Vivian.

Sarah looked at Alexei, but he kept his casual pose, leaning against his desk, seeming intrigued by his daughter's move to the center stage. "Feel free," said Sarah.

Vivian _did_ feel free, thank you very much. "Do you really think my father's an idiot?"

Sarah considered the question as she blinked slowly, twice. "I've heard people describe Alexei Volkoff in many ways," she said at last. "That's not one of them."

Alexei smiled.

"Yet here you are," said Vivian. "When father told me you'd come into his orbit I had to see it for myself, but seeing isn't believing. You're no traitor."

"I have a debt to pay."

Vivian snorted, in her lady-like fashion. "You? Indebted to Alexei Volkoff?"

"Agent Charles was captured. CIA couldn't move in time."

Chuck in danger? _No! _Vivian slapped Sarah, her arm moving before she even noticed. "And _you_ let it happen!" Nothing could get to Mr. Charles without going through her, Vivian knew that much.

Sarah's hand came up to her cheek, stinging and bloody.

Alexei stood up, taking over the room by that one movement. "I think this concludes the interview," said Volkoff. "Frost?"

Frost came forward, and took a look at Sarah's cheek. "You're bleeding. She's got sharp nails, even if she can't cut ropes with them." She took Sarah's arm and pulled gently. "Let's get that taken care of."

"You don't have to," said Sarah, allowing herself to be directed.

"I know," said Frost, making sure the door was shut behind them. "You could have stopped her, but you didn't."

"I know."

"Why not?"

"I deserved it," said Sarah.

"I was there too."

_So? _"You're not his wife."

* * *

Carina sat in the back by Chuck, flipping through her various notes. She was pretty sure they'd followed one of her plans, back in Thailand, but if they hadn't she'd better write it up pretty quick. Casey was down front, chatting with the lab geek about war crimes and atrocities, for some reason. Not the sort of thing _she'd_ want to talk about with a helpless prisoner, but it takes all kinds.

Chuck sat up, howling in rage and terror. Ellie sat up, crying out in fear and sudden pain, her fingers trapped in Chuck's clenched hand.

"Whaaa!" shrieked Carina, papers flying everywhere as she exploded, tension releasing in every direction at once. Tranq darts flew, and the yelling stopped. Chuck slumped, but Ellie went back down and pulled her brother over.

Casey sidled up the aisle as papers drifted down, keeping Mueller in sight at all times. He risked a glance at the unconscious pair. "Good shooting."

A stack of index cards cascaded over her head, as Carina scraped her notes back into a pile. She kept her head down. "Thank you."

* * *

Volkoff came to them in the infirmary as Frost was applying the last bit of sealant. "And here I'd hoped you and my daughter could be friends."

Sarah touched her cheek delicately, so as not to disturb any of Frost's ministrations. She wanted no scars, nothing to remind anyone in years to come about this insane adventure. "You're only as good as your last heroic rescue, I guess."

He reached out and touched her chin, moving her head so he could see the damage. "To hear her tell it, you fell off her horse and had to be rescued yourself."

She moved her head sharply, pulling her chin from his fingers. "I was the bait for the trap."

He nodded. "That sounds better on your resume, at least."

"Believe me I'm not applying." Sarah hopped off the table. "I have a debt to pay and a husband to get back to, so let's get on with it."

"You Americans, so abrupt," said Volkoff. "That particular quality will not be a virtue for what we have in mind."

"'We'?" asked Frost. Alexei hadn't discussed anything with her.

"Vivian and I," he clarified. "She had a few…suggestions, and I decided on a plan to implement them."

"Which is?"

"We'll send her to retrieve Yuri for us."

Frost was more than a little familiar with the requirements of that operation. "That's a suicide mission."

Volkoff nodded, grinning. "That was Vivian's part. Chip off the old block, that girl."

"Alexei, a word, in private?" She practically pulled him from the room, setting a ticker on the door to distort their words. "She's going to betray you."

"Who, Vivian?"

"If she's as big a chip as you think, maybe, but I was talking about Agent Walker."

He smiled. "Well, that all depends on what you mean by 'betrayal', doesn't it? I mean, if you expect it, allow for it, _plan_ for it, then not betraying me would be the real betrayal, wouldn't it? You know how much I love bending people to my will."

"I do."

"You're not angry with me, are you, Frost?"

"Not angry, no, but…a chance to provide some input would have been nice," said Frost, ever the good subordinate. "That was _my_ suicide mission, after all."

His face crumpled in remorse. "My deepest apologies," said Alexei, stroking her hair. "Maybe next time."

* * *

"Good afternoon, General."

Beckman scrutinized her image carefully. "Ellie, are you sure you should be up? What happened to your hand?"

Ellie flexed her taped fingers experimentally, not that they'd gotten any better in the last quarter hour. "Chuck did. It's kind of a long story."

"He hurt you?"

"Not exactly. According to Carina he sat up and started screaming while she was working on her report, took her by surprise."

"That's not wise, she has excellent reflexes," said the General. "What was he screaming about?"

"No idea, she tranqed him. And me."

"But you're pregnant."

"I was yelling too, and like you said, she has good reflexes." She hastened to respond to the question on Beckman's face before she could get around to asking it. "Not only did he start howling in my ear while I was sound asleep, but he was holding my hand. Or I was holding _his_ hand. Anyway, between the pain in my finger, the tranq antagonist they stuck into me once they remembered I was pregnant, and my need to go to the bathroom, I got up early."

Beckman nodded slowly. Not the sort of report she was used to receiving. "And how's your brother?"

Ellie sighed. "I can't really say until I get him under the scanner, General. He's alive. His vitals are good, but he's unresponsive."

Beckman looked at her hand. "And the screaming?"

Ellie started fiddling with something outside the camera's range. "I'm sending you a picture, General." She waited until Beckman's expression got more dour than usual. "This is the chair we found him in. You can see all the marks where those…probes were attached. Whatever they did to his mind, it must have been pretty traumatic. His episode may have been just a delayed response."

"I don't like it when my experts use words like 'may', Doctor. Given Chuck's demonstrated abilities, and the uncertainty of his mental state, you're leaving me no choice but to remand him to Dr. Dreyfus' care, for now. He will come to your lab under guard, or your lab can go to him, if your scanner is portable, but he will stay in a secure facility until you can convince Dreyfus that Chuck's in his right mind."

Ellie nodded. It's what she would have recommended for anyone else's brother. "Yes, General. I'll contact Manoosh and let him know, he can start–"

"Your assistant won't be there, Ellie," said Beckman, shaking her head slightly. "Agent Rye's vehicle is CIA property. I was going to have it shipped back here, but I decided to let Manoosh and Sam drive it back, a little reward for services rendered."

Ellie smiled. _Do him some good to get out into the world. _"Let's just hope there are no science fiction conventions along the way." Her eyes widened. "Oh, that reminds me…"

"If you're worried about your father's car, don't be. They've got both vehicles." Beckman's face looked a little grim. "I think they've got a bet, too."

Manoosh loose, racing cross-country in her father's souped-up muscle car? "I thought you didn't want me to worry," said Ellie.

* * *

"Come in."

Frost opened the door. "Getting settled?"

Sarah raised a brow. "I was pre-settled," she said. She gestured at the closet, stuffed with clothing both elegant and warm. "I didn't come here with this many clothes. I didn't come here with _any_ clothes. I feel like I should be standing _in_ the closet." Waiting for a mark.

Funny. "Agent Walker, like it or not, you are a contract employee of Volkoff Industries. We have standards to maintain, very high standards. If you survive, you may consider those clothes part of your fee."

Her fee was Chuck's life. "Is this Yuri that important to you?"

Frost regarded her coolly for a long moment, then said, "Get dressed, Agent Walker. Something warm."

* * *

Two women walked around the grounds of Alexei Volkoff's estate as the snow fell, completely at ease.

"The guards have received pictures of you, of course, so they'll know that you should be accepted in the common areas, for now. They won't challenge you, unless you give them a reason to…"

Sarah crossed her heart. "I am a meek little mouse."

"A meek little mouse that's memorizing their routines," said Frost. "Don't bother, we'll be changing them."

"It's not like I can help it."

"Oh, I know you can't." Frost slowed her steps as they approached a piece of ground that looked like it would be a garden, if the place it was in ever saw a Spring. "My favorite spot."

Sarah looked around, but nothing to recommend the spot to her. "What's so special about it?"

"It's the only place on the grounds not covered by any form of electronic surveillance," said Frost. "Here we can speak without any fear of being overheard."

"And I'm just supposed to take your word for that."

"Not if you want to live very long, no," said Frost readily. "There's only one person you can and should trust unconditionally and he's not here. Don't worry, I didn't bring you to this spot to talk, but to listen."

Sarah listened. "Okay."

"I don't know what kind of game Vivian may be playing, of even Alexei, but you must bring the Gobbler back here."

"The what?"

"Yuri. Yuri the Gobbler."

"Okay, now I have to ask–"

"He eats people."

"I don't have to ask. I have to say 'Ew' right now, because this place is free of all electronic surveillance."

"I won't tell," said Frost.

"Thank you. Does he, um…?"

"Not professionally, no," said Frost. She checked her watch, started speaking faster. "He's Volkoff's main bodyguard, and I'm pretty sure he has something to do with Hydra."

"Hydra?"

"Volkoff's computer network, his buyers, sellers. His entire infrastructure. His whole empire is virtual, and only Volkoff and maybe Yuri know where it is."

_This just keeps getting better. _"Why would Volkoff trust that kind of knowledge with a cannibal?"

"I don't know, but when Yuri went into Seabrook Alexei's communications with his network slowed to a crawl, and since Boris took out his lieutenants they've practically stopped. We and Alexei both need Yuri if we want to find that network. It's more important even than Alexei himself. I was supposed to get him back myself, but your team has kept me preoccupied."

"So that's why you helped Volkoff escape in LA."

Frost looked around. "One of the reasons, yes."

"And what you did to Chuck?" asked Sarah sharply.

Frost looked away. "No time to get into that now. The guards will be coming around again…" She stepped forward, out of the invisible safe zone. "And we have to finish your tour."

Sarah buried her anger, and smoothed her features. Agent Walker followed.

* * *

An ambulance met the plane and loaded Doctor and her patient on board. Casey and Carina took Mueller in to be formally arrested by someone with the legal authority to do so. Once free of that burden it was back to the lab, an empty and echoing place, without its usual occupants.

"Good afternoon, team," said General Beckman from the monitor in Ellie's office, the closest secure communications station. "I trust that everything has proceeded smoothly so far?"

"It has, General," said Casey.

"Neither Ellie nor Chuck is with you at this time, correct?"

Casey and Carina shared a glance. "That's correct, General."

"Good. We have received an urgent an unsettling communication. It's intended recipient is Mr. Bartowski, but under the circumstances I think it's best he never see it."

"Why is that, General?" asked Carina.

"You tell me, Agent Miller," said the General, pressing a button.

The screen lit up with a woman's face. Vivian MacArthur. "Mr. Charles," she said, "I hope you are doing well after your recent captivity. My father would like you to know that he was pleased to be of assistance to Miss Walker's heroic efforts on your behalf. That said, however, I fear I have discovered something truly disturbing."

An ugly picture of an ugly man replaced her calm visage. "This is Yuri Gobrienko, a/k/a Yuri the Gobbler, my father's main bodyguard. He's currently housed in your Seabrook Supermax Penitentiary. Here are some photos of his victims."

Several images replaced Yuri's.

"Yuck," said Carina. "That's not good."

"Impressive," said Casey.

The pictures vanished, and Vivian was back on the screen. "My father plans to break this monster out of prison, and he plans to use Miss Walker to do it."

* * *

Dr. Dreyfus and Ellie were conferring in his office, over his proposed evaluation plan and how she might best contribute to it. An attendant tapped on the door. "Doctor, the new patient is moving."

Leo and Ellie started moving themselves, to a special observation room next to the room where Chuck currently lay restrained, in the high security section.

"How is he moving?" asked Ellie.

"Look at his hands, Doctors," said the attendant.

Chuck's fingers were the only parts of him that so much as twitched. They were lightly, rhythmically, pressing themselves against his leg, one after the other.

"Excellent," said Dreyfus. "He's got some motor function, at least."

"That's not it, Doctor," said Ellie. She turned to the attendant. "Go in there and press your fingers like this–" she demonstrated the motion "–somewhere on his body, where he can feel it."

The attendant glanced at Dr. Dreyfus for his authorization, and Leo gave it. The two doctors watched through the one-way glass as the man entered the other room, walked up to Chuck, and put his hand on Chuck's leg, pressing 1-2-1-2.

Chuck grabbed his arm, and opened his eyes, looking around the room. He looked back up at the man, who stood waiting, not trying to pull away. "Where am I?"

"You're in a secure wing of a CIA Psychiatric Holding Facility," said the attendant.

Chuck released his arm. "Dreyfus again, huh?" He looked at the mirror again, then back at the man. "What's your name and clearance?"

His name was Juan. His clearance was high enough. Now that his patient was lucid and responsive, Juan lifted his clipboard, with its checklist of basic questions. "What's your name?" _Hopefully this one wouldn't say 'Bond'._

The patient rested his head on the thin pillow. "My name is Bartowski. Special Agent Charles Bartowski." Then he smiled. "Call me Chuck."

* * *

**A/N2 **So it seems as if quite a few players have chosen sides.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N ** Three guesses why this episode is named 'Pushing Daisies'. It has nothing to do with flowers.

* * *

"_We found her ring in the patient's pocket." _

"_You're only as good as your last heroic rescue, I guess."_

"_I don't like it when my experts use words like 'may', Doctor."_

"_Special Agent Charles Bartowski."_

* * *

Somewhere between where he was and where he was going…

Manoosh wasn't sure which car he liked better. Rye's ride had every gadget the CIA could dream up, and security like nobody's business. Even if they could see the car they couldn't catch it, and even if they caught it they couldn't get him out of it. That sort of protection meant a lot to a guy like him. Or it had once.

Some old guys in suits had given him the opportunity to do something other than cringe and hide. To have girls look at him with something other than contempt or amusement. Even though he'd lost his glasses and his freedom in Dubai, he still had that, the looks in the eyes of those bikini babes up on stage with him.

It wasn't enough, though. They were surprised and amazed, but he wanted, needed more than that. Ellie gave it to him. They had a rocky start at first, sheer terror, but he had skills she valued, and she had drive and intelligence he'd never seen in a woman before. And respect. She knew what he could do and pushed him to do more, even if it was only by making a better lock for the soda machine.

The other car was her car. Scary awesome, just like her. The owner's manual wasn't for the car but for the add-ons. The car got him noticed, but it didn't get respect. He was just a little guy in a big car. More than once he'd seen the old contempt in the eyes of some yahoos and their skirts as they pulled up alongside and played my-car-is-bigger-than-yours games. He played for a while, but then he left that disrespect in the dust behind him, where it belonged. The car was a model of perfection every way.

Except that something kept bumping under the driver's seat.

* * *

Somewhere near DC, a nondescript airport for nondescript purposes…

Ellie wished she had Manoosh with her now. Her assistant loved the scanner, loved tinkering with it, improving it. More important, Manoosh had saved her brother with it. She'd assumed that little line at the bottom of the screen was an artifact, something created by a brain scan that wasn't built by a brain specialist. That non-specialist, her own father, didn't care about the extra line, if he even saw it. That little line was the clue to her brother's unique mind, and Manoosh was the only one able to see it.

"_He called himself what?"_

"_Agent Bartowski, General," said Ellie. Beckman heard a mumbled comment from Leo Dreyfus, and Ellie added, "Excuse me, 'Special Agent'."_

"_Not Agent Charles? Not, God help us, Agent Carmichael?"_

"_Agent Carmichael is gone, General. Manoosh and I proved that conclusively."_

_Not distrustful but…expectant. "Prove it again."_

She had to get the scanner to the facility first, though, and walk Dr. Dreyfus through the changes she and her assistant had documented. He was reading her papers now, but nothing was better than living color. After his astonishing announcement, no way they were going to let 'Special Agent Charles Bartowski' anywhere near the front door. The scanner was arriving today, with the rest of the lab equipment, but Manoosh and Sam were still on the road.

Once the plane settled, her driver took the van out onto the field, as far as he could go before the cordon of guards stopped them.

"This is a restricted area," said the agent in charge to her driver.

"You should have gotten amended operational instructions from North Star, while en route," said Ellie. She showed him her ID, and gave him the message index Diane had given her.

The man didn't simply repeat his warning, confirming her statement. "What's your first rule?" "First, do no harm." Ellie was no spy, so a familiar code phrase was the best option.

"Check. We have the designated packages ready to load. Drive around to the ramp, we'll get them on board." The rest of the stuff would go to the original drop-off point.

"Thank you, Agent."

He nodded sharply, once. "You're welcome, ma'am."

He stepped back, and the driver moved their van to the designated spot. She got out, clipboard in hand, and verified the contents of the required boxes. This was definitely not the time to find out they'd misplaced one cable. It should be just a formality, Manoosh and Sam had been quite thorough in their packing job, but this diversion of these crates hadn't been planned for at the time. Once she gave her approval, the squad came forward and moved the boxes carefully into her transport.

Ellie couldn't get out of there fast enough. She had to make sure her brother was alone in his own mind.

* * *

Later, back in the lab…

"Good afternoon, team," said the General. "What have we learned about this Yuri Gobrienko?"

"Not a lot, General, and none of it's good" said Casey. "We started with his incarceration in Seabrook, but the trail runs cold very quickly. It's his only datum in our system."

"One arrest and he's in a supermax facility?"

"He was captured pretty much by accident at a crime scene involving a building collapse," said Carina. "They linked him to the victim by his teeth marks. Plus he's bigger than Casey. Actually, the victim was bigger than Casey."

"Neither of them had any history in our criminal databases," said Casey, teeth clenched. "This guy may have been pulling a Pichushkin, going after a local enemy on foreign soil. We were about to expand our search to foreign sources, especially Russian."

"Don't bother, Colonel. I farmed that work out already." Another window opened up, with Hannah's face framed in it. "I believe you're already familiar with her qualifications. I've tapped her to be the team's analyst and C-and-C specialist during Chuck's absence."

"That's excellent news, General," said Casey. Carina waved, and Hannah smiled back. But while the news was good, the reason for it was probably not. "Any word on Chuck's status, ma'am?"

Beckman clasped her hands, leaning into the monitor somewhat. "I have to say…favorable, but complicated. You will be happy to know that Mr. Bartowski has already regained consciousness."

Even Casey smiled at that news.

"However, whatever the Belgian did to him has had unexpected side-effects. Ellie and Dr. Dreyfus are evaluating him now. The best scenario presently available has him absent from the team for several months at least."

"Months?"

"In the less favorable scenarios his absence is indefinite, Agent Miller, so let's count our blessings. In the meanwhile, I believe Hannah has some additional insights about Mr. Gobrienko's activities."

"Yes, General." Hannah's hands sprang into action, while Beckman's window retreated into a corner as she yielded the floor. A number of photographs, none of them high-quality, filled the interior space. "Yuri Gobrienko is Alexei Volkoff's constant companion when he travels, which isn't often." Circles sprang up around pairs of men in each image. "Prior to his arrest and Mr. Volkoff's appearance in the Buy More, these were the best pictures we had of either man. The only sign we have that he is a bodyguard is Miss Volkoff's statement, and I am inclined to distrust that."

"Why?" asked Carina.

"His presence in the US at the time of his arrest had no purpose, as Volkoff was still in Moscow. As Colonel Casey and Agent Bartowski were closing in he would have kept a bodyguard nearer."

Casey grunted a negative. "Neh, he wasn't afraid of us. We were–" _just bait._

"You were what, Colonel?" asked Beckman into his silence.

Casey cleared his throat. "We were there and we were convenient, General, but Marko said they were really after a pair of master spies, who openly used public transportation and U.S. Embassies, like ordinary people." He looked at Carina.

"He was afraid of _us_?"

"You were following Orion's trail, digging up Volkoff operations even Marko didn't know about. He said you got closer than anyone, and we were sitting in the factory when he said it."

Carina smiled, looking pleased.

"Don't let it go to your head, Miller. Orion did it first, without a map, and he didn't get caught."

Now Carina frowned, displeased. "You're a real buzzkill, you know that, Casey?"

"Thank you."

"Are they always like this?" asked Hannah.

"You learn to live with it," said Beckman.

"I think I can do that. So the question remains, why would Volkoff send his main bodyguard away with either threat approaching, and do we want Volkoff to get him back?"

"We could bring him in," suggested Casey, always in favor of the direct approach. "His cover's blown and he's already in custody."

"That would alert Volkoff we know of the Gobbler's importance, and leave Sarah hanging," said Hannah.

"If we leave him there she'll get him out, and then he's back to Volkoff."

"Unless we stop her."

Beckman shook her head. "We need to defeat him, Agent Miller, not just stop him."

"Plus his opposition is kind of static at the moment. Stop Sarah and he'll take it personally," said Hannah with a shudder. There was a time and place for that, and this wasn't it.

"It's a classic Trojan scenario," said Carina, taking the General's hint.

"Volkoff will know that as well as us," said Casey. "Anything we plant on Yuri, Volkoff will find on him just as easily, probably while he's five hundred miles away."

"So don't plant it on Yuri," said Hannah. "Plant it on Sarah."

* * *

Moscow…

"Come with me," said Frost, and Sarah did as she was directed. Frost led her to her office, a Spartan place for all of its size. "Here." She handed Sarah a small computer.

"What is it?"

"My notes for the breakout. I collected them back when it was _my_ mission."

Sarah took the device, not sure why Frost was so eager to claim something that would get her killed. "Thank you." Was she that eager to die?

"Don't thank me yet, Agent Walker," said Frost. "Along with this computer you get one week to plan and execute the breakout."

"A week?"

Frost nodded. "After which he'll consider your deal forfeit. Volkoff isn't kind to those he feels have cheated him, but I think you know that already."

* * *

Manoosh pulled the car into a space by his motel room, ready to walk for a little while. He'd driven farther than he'd planned, not stopping for much, and he was starving and tired. Standing there by the door, he stretched, forcing his body upright after too long in a sitting position. For a second he got dizzy, and dropped the keys.

He caught them on the way down, whacking his head on the car door. He rubbed the spot, setting himself down next to the driver's seat, and a soda can rolled toward him until it hit something. _Oh yeah._ He felt around under the seat for whatever had been sliding around under there.

* * *

"A Roarke Seven?" repeated Ellie. "No, I don't know what it was doing there, Manoosh, the last time I was in that car I was four…Is it working? Do you have your–?" She rolled her eyes, unseen by him at least. "Yes, I know it's a stupid question. Of course you have them, what kind of a nerd would you be if you didn't…You do that, it's better than the crap on those TVs. Let me know what progress you make. Have fun."

"Trouble in River City?" asked Dr, Dreyfus, once he had her attention again.

Sometimes Ellie wished she could just sit and eat a pint of Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream all by herself. "No, just a computer where it shouldn't be, in my Dad's car."

Dreyfus recognized her imminent meltdown, and minimized the window with the scans in favor of his calming and neutral desktop. "From the description, he has a lot of computers. It could have just gotten lost."

She looked at the landscape on his screen. "I'd like to believe that, really I do, but…I don't think my father knows _how_ to do meaningless things anymore."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

She rubbed her eyes. "Fortunately that disaster is a few days off yet. Shall we continue?"

"I think we've made a great deal of progress today," said Dreyfus, shaking his head. "I'm willing to accept that the waves associated with Carmichael are gone, and I will report that to your General."

"She's not _my_ General."

He raised a brow but otherwise ignored the comment. "However, with these more recent changes since his kidnapping still unexplained, I'll have to keep him in the secure wing for observation and interviews, for at least a few days more." He settled back in his chair. "You need some rest yourself. Go home to your husband, spend time thinking about someone other than Chuck for a while, and don't come back here until day after tomorrow at the earliest."

Ellie grimaced, the closest she could come to a smile. "Yes, Doctor."

Leo shook his head again. "Not Doctor, just a concerned colleague and a friend. This has been a very stressful time, and you handle stress better than anyone I've ever seen, but let's not find your limits today."

* * *

The next day…

Ellie pushed open the door to her office, to find Carina sitting in her chair making notes. "Hey, Carina. Nice desk, looks just like mine."

The redhead didn't look up. "Aren't you supposed to be home?"

"Leo wants me to think about something other than Chuck, but there's only 'awesome' at home, which really doesn't bear thinking about." Ellie walked up to her desk, hoping Carina might have learned how to take a hint. "What's all this?"

"Mission planning," said Carina, who had learned how to take hints but just…didn't, most of the time.

"Isn't that Hannah's job now?"

"Making the plans is," said Carina. "I'm messing them up."

Ellie gave up trying to be subtle and sat in her own guest chair. "What's the mission?"

"Hannah found a highly-placed Volkoff crony right under our noses. We're trying to find a way to put a bug on him that he doesn't know about and Volkoff won't immediately find."

Ellie said the first thing that came to mind. "Dose his food."

"The obvious ploy," agreed Carina, "But this guy eats people, so, not so good." Suddenly she looked thoughtful, while Ellie looked disgusted. "Unless we dosed one of the other prisoners, no, there's too many of them…"

"You could go in as a medical team," suggested Ellie, to get her to stop talking.

"Why?"

"He'll have every disease known to his fellow man. His victims would be perfect carriers."

"Hmm, non-standard medical care, that might work. Better than the plan _I_ came up with." Carina pressed the call button on Ellie's monitor.

Ellie rotated the screen so she could see it better. "What was that?"

"Distract the guards while someone beats the crap out of Yuri, then bug him while he's down."

Ellie laughed. "Do plans like that really work?" The monitor lit up. "Hello, General…"

* * *

A few days later, at Seabrook Correctional facility…

Guard Steve showed up as usual for his shift on the boards. After his party yesterday he was a little bit muzzy, but he was covering the board for the rec room this week. If he was lucky, no one would get stabbed, or worse, like what happened last week, during the new guy's watch. _Maybe I should trade with him today. _Nah. Much as he wanted a quiet shift, he'd just gotten the board working good again.

Ellie watched the forbidding grey stone walls loom over their completely fake genuine medical van, as it drove past guard stations to get into the loading area. "Tell me why I'm doing this again? I'm not a spy. I should be in DC with Chuck."

"Well, I'm not a nurse, but you don't see me complaining," said Carina as she drove the van. "You've done everything you can for Chuck, Ellie, and we need a medical professional to do this."

Right. "I'm a doctor."

"You're a doctor," said Carina. "You're doing what doctors do, and if one of the shots you give this guy happens to be more than purely medicinal, well, that's my business, not yours. Just pretend you're in Thailand."

_God, no._ "I didn't go to Thailand for the fun of it. I went because _you_ needed an excuse. I went into that cesspit for Chuck's sake!"

"Well, now you're going into this one for Sarah's."

* * *

The van pulled up to the dock as the new guy watched on the monitor. Ellie and Carina handed over their credentials and were escorted into the prison on their mission of mercy.

Underneath the van, a black-haired woman clad in leather lowered herself to the ground. Quick as a cat she slid into the shadows and went to the door. It had a better grade of lock, but she had a better grade of lockpick.

The door opened in front of her.

"Agent Walker, hello," said the new guy on the other side. He pointed to the camera in the ceiling. "Smile for Mr. Volkoff."

"That's not part of the plan," said the woman, not smiling. She handed him a buzzer for the way out.

He took it and shrugged. "The plan's changed." He offered her a silenced gun.

She shook her head. "I brought my own," she said, holding up a tranq pistol. She smirked at his confusion. "The plan's changed."

* * *

Ellie and Carina waited patiently in the Medical office, chatting with the prison doctor about topics of mutual interest, medicine on the one hand and rock-climbing on the other. Outside the door a parade arrived, and two guards stepped inside, ending their quiet time. "Duck your head, prisoner."

A third guard entered, pulling a chain attached to a little wheeled cart. Attached to the cart was a giant of a man, cuffed, chained, and even muzzled.

"What's all this?" asked Ellie.

"He maimed another prisoner a few days ago," said the doctor. "Three fingers, down the hatch." The doctor tried to be nonchalant in front of Carina. "Good morning, Gobbler. Try to be nice for the nice ladies."

Yuri head-butted him to the ground. Carina caught the edge of the muzzle with one hand and shoved the hard nails of the other against the underside of his jaw. "Try that with me and I'll rip out your tongue and shove it down your throat," she said. "You'll enjoy your last meal and you'll die, and you'll even do it in the right order. We're trying to help you, dumb-ass, make sure you're nice and healthy…for your execution."

She stepped back and a guard took her place, aiming his rifle at the Gobbler's head, but Yuri seemed more impressed by Carina.

Ellie stepped forward, holding up a syringe. "I'm going to take a blood sample, so I can see what we're dealing with here." Once that was taken, she held up another, and squirted out a small stream of liquid. "A broad-spectrum antibiotic, until we can find out what else might be needed."

As she approached, everyone focused on her proximity to danger, and so they were slow to notice or respond to the sound of sacks of meat dropping outside the door.

* * *

The new guy made sure to let all the other guards know what was happening. Once he had their attention firmly elsewhere, he triggered his gizmos to loop the screens they weren't watching. He opened the last door with a bang, making Guard Steve jerk in his chair. "Steve, you've been neglecting your duties." The new guy stepped out of the way, as the other guards brought in the rest of the surprise. "Why did they all have to hear about your birthday from me?"

* * *

A black-clad whirlwind swept in and with a precise shots incapacitated the guards nearest the door before they could turn. The doctor with the syringe fell next, and the man with the rifle behind her.

The doctor's assistant took a swing at her, but the invader blocked it and dropped her with a kick. "And stay down," she said, shooting the nurse with a final dart. The prison doctor came up but she merely pushed him into a wall and he dropped.

The woman took the guard captain's keys, along with the van keys from the nurse's pocket, and turned to the prisoner. "Volkoff wants you back," she said. "But all things considered I think I'll leave you as you are." She picked up the chain and with no obvious sign of effort, pulled his cart from the room and back to the loading dock.

* * *

The new guy ate his cake slowly, drawing out the pleasure of it. So moist. The other guards felt the call of duty first and left, until finally it was just him and the lucky fellow. The phone in his pocket buzzed twice, and he checked the screen. With a tap he activated the self-destructs on the gizmos he'd planted in all the boards last week. With a sigh he dropped the plate with a frosting flower into the trash. "I better get going myself. You know what they say, no rest for the wicked." He moved past Steve to the door.

Steve looked confused. "Isn't that 'no rest for the weary'?"

"No, I'm pretty sure I got it right." The new guy hurled a knife into Steve's neck, closing the door on the spray of blood. "Happy Birthday."

* * *

At a small, nondescript airfield…

The cargo plane was small, not big enough to take the whole van, so Sarah got out to oversee the handling of her prize, as another lady got in. She tossed a bundle of clothing into the former guard's lap. "Get in the back. Take off that uniform, we'll leave it in the van when we torch it."

He did as she said, trying not to fall as the van bounced around on its way somewhere else. "This square's me with Volkoff, right?" he asked as he pulled on his pants.

She shot him in the back. "Yep. No hard feelings." Following her instructions, she put on a black wig and drove the van to a bus station. She splashed some ammonia onto the man's fingertips, left the van in the lot, and got on her bus, never to be seen again.

* * *

In the air, Sarah handed over the keys to the chains, as the gurney team wheeled Yuri over to a spot with lots of equipment ready and waiting. "Checking for bugs?"

"Da."

She nodded. It's what she would have done. "I'm going to go wash off. I am all over filth under this suit." She scratched at her arm.

The guard pointed to a bathroom and walked away. A robe hung on the back of the door. She killed the lights and washed in the dark, until she got the robe on, then continued cleaning the exposed bits in the light.

Someone pounded on the door. "Give suit!"

She opened the door and shoved the leather rag at him. "Take suit."

Finally, clean and itch-free, she walked barefoot out of the room and winced. Yuri looked much better chained and muzzled than he did naked. The outside of her suit, too tight to have anything except her on the inside, was getting a thorough going over as well. Volkoff was taking no chances.

"Your turn," said a guard, pointing at the equipment.

"I don't think so."

The guard moved his gun to a more ready position. "Volkoff orders."

The room was filled with an air of anticipation. _Great. _"To anyone here who thinks that anyone other than my husband will be seeing me naked, I have a word of advice. Fingernails are hard, eyeballs aren't."

Air of anticipation completely gone. The guards clutched their guns more tightly, while the techs brought out a folding panel. "You have screen, da?"

"Da."

She stood behind the screen, checked for tripwires, and took off the robe, adopting the same position in front of the scanner that Yuri had been in. "Go ahead." When the machine stopped humming she put on her robe.

Someone stepped behind the panel, not a technician. This guard had no gun, and wore blue rubber gloves. "Cavity check," he said, leering at her.

When the screaming started, everyone turned to see. The screen fell. The guard was writhing on the floor, hands over his eyes, his face smeared with blood and other fluids. Sarah stood over him, wiping her gory fingers on the robe. "Don't look at me," she said mildly. "The cavity check was his idea."

* * *

**A/N2 **The show tried to portray Sarah as a pretty girl in love, but she started out just as much of a burnout as Casey, and they stayed away from her darker side for the sake of the romance. In the Pilot and Baby, we saw her more violent aspects, the woman trained in over 200 ways to kill. She's different without Chuck.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N **Last Chapter was all about Sarah, Ellie, and Carina. This time it's Chuck's and Casey's turn.

* * *

"_First, do no harm." _

"_Plant it on Sarah." _

"_The plan's changed."_

"_The cavity check was his idea."_

* * *

At a CIA Psychiatric Facility…

Leo Dreyfus looked up as his office door opened, and his most interesting non-patient came in. "Good morning, Chuck."

Chuck noted the empty chair. "Ellie's not here yet?" he asked as he sat in his usual spot, on the edge of the couch.

"She's not coming, Chuck," said Dreyfus. "I told her to take some time away from your case yesterday, but apparently she just got onto your wife's case instead. She left for Oregon this morning as part of an interception team." He didn't bother to ask how that made Chuck feel.

Chuck set his elbows on his knees, resting his chin on his clasped hands. "They took my sister on a mission? Interesting."

Chuck's lack of reaction was more interesting to Leo. "You don't seem especially alarmed by this, or even upset."

"Oh, I'm upset, all right, but the only way to fix that is to be there myself, and the only way to be there myself is for you to sign off on my release, and the only way to do that is not…seem… upset." Chuck took a breath. "But I'm really not alarmed, I know that Casey and Carina will take good care of her."

"Casey's not with them."

Chuck shot to his feet. "Okay, now I'm alarmed."

"You have doubts about Agent Miller's ability?"

Chuck waved that away, pacing. "No, I don't have any doubts, which is actually, um, part of the problem. Where they used to call Sarah a 'wild-card enforcer', they just called Carina a 'wild card.' That's not how my sister rolls."

"They worked well enough together in your rescue."

"Casey was there," countered Chuck. "He would have supported Ellie. What the hell are they thinking?"

"I think you might be underestimating Agent Miller, but the real question is, what are _you_ thinking?" said Leo.

"I'm thinking I need to get to Oregon as soon as possible," said Chuck, running his hands through his hair. He walked up to the desk, leaned his hands on it, and _loomed._ "Tell me how I can do that, Doctor."

* * *

At NSA Headquarters…

Someone tapped on her door. "Come," said the General. Colonel Casey entered the room, one of the few people she actually wanted to see that day. "Everything go smoothly, Colonel?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said. A federal agent and a neurologist should have had no trouble boarding a flight all on their own, and didn't. It was the 'all on their own' part that bothered Casey, and it showed in his voice.

"They can handle it themselves, John," she said suddenly, putting all other concerns aside. "The training wheels have to come off sometime. Which is why I need you here."

"'Special Agent Bartowski', ma'am?"

"Exactly." She handed him a folder, with all sorts of warning labels on it. "Dr. Dreyfus believes, and I concur, that his sister's engagement actively in the field might be enough to push Chuck over the edge. If that happens–when that happens, we'll need you…ready to hand."

"To do what, ma'am?"

She opened a desk drawer, and took out a small pouch, about the size of his hand, and pushed it across the desk at him. "What you do best, Colonel." He looked at it with distaste, and made no move to pick it up. She forced his hand. "Dismissed."

He picked up his package, tucking it away where he wouldn't have to see it, and stood. "Ma'am."

* * *

Manoosh was in his motel room, screwing desperately.

Tomorrow he would be back in DC. His self-imposed deadline to fix the Roarke Seven he'd found under the driver's seat in her father's car would expire, and then, well…

Well, nothing, really, but it was a pride thing. He should be able to fix one of these in his sleep, but this one just threw up one roadblock after another. He'd actually had to stop and get parts, so he probably already lost his bet with Sam, too, but really this stupid machine–

It beeped at him. He didn't drop his screwdriver, but it was a near thing.

He carefully set his tool aside, and checked to make sure he hadn't left any screws lying around. Then he turned over the computer.

KNOCK KNOCK, said the screen in familiar block letters.

He typed _Orion?_ but the screen simply cleared his entry. He typed _Who's there?_ but the screen cleared his entry again. He typed–he erased everything and sat very far back from the machine. This was _sooo_ not his business! Orion's computer in Orion's car for Orion's daughter? What was he _thinking_?

He reached out and shut the laptop, relieved that it closed obediently. He opened the lid and the screen lit again with the same prompt. He closed it. _Yeah! It worked! _ He fixed it.

He high-fived himself, and went to bed.

* * *

John Casey sat in his chair, tired but not ready to sleep. That sort of thing happened, when he wasn't where he needed to be. Tomorrow two teammates dressed in scrubs with not a single weapon between them would enter a maximum-security prison that he could have infiltrated in his sleep, hoping to find a homicidal maniac waiting for them. And even if Sarah wasn't there, they still had to deal with the Gobbler.

Life just wasn't fair, sometimes. He flipped another page in Chuck's file, getting more concerned with every line.

He opened the pouch the General had given him, pulled out the gun inside. Not his usual make or model, but that was only to be expected. The less this business could be connected to John Casey the better, as far as John Casey was concerned. He couldn't imagine ever using it, and what would he say to Sarah if he did? He shoved the gun back into the pouch, and put the pouch and the file it came with into his safe.

He had to get out of here, take a walk, clear his head. He had to go somewhere, do something.

* * *

Chuck waited until that night to make his move. With his sister gone, he'd been able to take a paperclip from Leo's desk the day before, not that he had any plans to use it, just…because. He hadn't even meant to take it, he just noticed it on the desk, and then on the way back to the day room he felt it in his hand.

When the guard made his latest pass Chuck was ready, improvised lockpicks in hand and the door already open. Two doors down on the left, another patient with curly hair. With a thumb to the neck Chuck made sure his sleep was dreamless and uninterrupted, then carried him back to his own bed, just in case some guard got curious.

Whoever had installed the cameras had done with an eye to security, but whoever had installed the furniture didn't have that eye. The two cameras should have covered for each other, but the table along the wall blocked the view for one. As the other panned away, Chuck ran and slid under the table to get past the sensor. He bounced off the wall, then the table, and perched himself–thank you, _Serenity_–above the door, braced against one wall, one camera, and a light fixture. He waited.

The door beneath him opened, and a janitor walked through, pushing a bucket with a stick. Chuck put a long arm through the doorway, reaching for the camera strut on the other side, and swung himself through, reaching for the next light fixture. The hall was clear and clean, but he felt, he _knew_, something was wrong. He looked down, back through the door.

The janitor stood there, looking at him. He mimed a gun, pointing it at Chuck–_bang!–_blowing imaginary smoke from the pretend barrel–_Gotcha!_–before he turned away and started to mop. The door closed between them and Chuck dropped down, trying to remember Pebbles' password algorithm for the next door.

* * *

On the front walk of a nice looking house in a nice DC suburb…

Casey moved like a man in a dream, or a nightmare. _What am I doing here?_ The middle of the night was no time to be making a house call. Well, not on the good guys, anyway. With the good guys you rang the doorbell, like so.

Dr. Dreyfus was surprisingly alert, and answered the door promptly. "Colonel…Casey," he said with mild surprise.

"You remember me?" said Casey.

"The events of that day are burned into my memory, Colonel," said Dreyfus with a chuckle. "And if need be, I have the DVD to bring it all back."

Casey had no desire to remember that afternoon, one of the most uncomfortable of his life. He recalled getting beaten up by his own daughter with more pleasure. Fortunately Carina got tranqed too, so she didn't bug him about it much. "May I come in? I really need to talk to you about Chuck."

Leo opened his door wider. "I would be very interested to hear it."

* * *

"Just so you know, Colonel," said Leo, leading his guest into the living room. "I may not be Chuck's physician, but I am evaluating his readiness for the world and the world's readiness for him. Anything you have to say to me will factor in that evaluation. Is that clear?"

"Perfectly, Doctor."

"Call me Leo. Please, sit." He subtly influenced Casey's choice by pointing to one chair while seating himself in the other. "What's on your mind?"

"You just said it. Chuck's readiness for the world."

"Interesting," said Leo, with a slight smile, quickly quashed. "You don't think he is?"

Casey looked uncomfortable. "He's got the skills. You can't question his ability."

Casey's reservations were in the file. "You still question his attitude?"

"I wish I could."

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning…" Casey took a deep breath. "Meaning I've been a soldier, most of my life. I've seen things, hell, I've _done_ things that changed me, left me a different man on the other side with no way to get back."

"I understand," said Dreyfus, and he did. Not the soldiering part, of course, but every man has that sort of experience if he's paying any attention to his life at all.

"I'm not a good man, and I know that," said Casey. He looked down at his hands. "You can't do what I do, as long as I have, without being good at it, without enjoying it, even just a little bit, and no good man should enjoy what I do."

Dreyfus withheld comment on that. Not that he agreed with it, entirely, but the Colonel Casey Chuck often talked about wasn't a man to reveal himself too much, or too often. Now was a time for listening, not talking.

"I was turned down for Special Forces training, you know. I walked out of that tent thinking maybe I should just go home, but how _could _I go home after that? Then Keller came along and gave me a way out." Casey looked down at the carpet, and the patterns in it. "I wonder sometimes what my life would have been like if I'd gone home to Kath instead."

Dreyfus wasn't privy to the Colonel's file, but from Chuck's description of their early days together, he had no doubt that John Casey would have been a happier man if he'd refused the offer.

"Keller reeled me in like a fish. For all I know he had me rejected, just so he could get his hooks into me. My daughter grew up fatherless because of him."

"Your situations are hardly parallel," said Dreyfus. As he expected, the sound of his voice had much the same effect as a bucket of water.

"Our what?"

"Chuck isn't like you, Colonel," said Dreyfus calmly. "For one thing, he's got people like you and Agent Bartowski looking out for his interests."

Hardly the point. "He's a good man, Doctor. I don't want Volkoff doing to him what Keller did to me. He doesn't belong here."

"Maybe not, but it sounds to me like this is exactly the place where he's needed. Your profession seems to be desperately short of good men."

Casey grunted an acknowledgement.

"In any event, Colonel, it's not your call, or mine, to make. Chuck made his choice. He knows what he wants and he's doing what he needs to do to get there. That's hardly the act of a rudderless orphan."

Like Alex Coburn had been back in Honduras, jobless and alone. He'd chosen the easy out, and deserved to die. Chuck had made the harder choice, and even now John Casey was trying to choose the easy way out. _You don't honor a man's courage by putting him in a box._

"In fact," continued Dreyfus, "When I answered the door before, I was honestly expecting Chuck to be standing there, not you."

"If that's the case, Doctor, you shouldn't have left your oriole window open," said Chuck, stepping into the room.

* * *

The next day…

Chuck walked on board the private plane, took a long look around. "You guys still think I'm that dangerous?"

Casey came up behind him and looked around the flying deathtrap. Chuck was thinking and observing like a spy. On the other hand, now he wouldn't have to hide it _or_ explain it. A net plus in his book. "That sounds like something Carmichael would say, trying to make me feel guilty, get me off my guard," he said, pushing Chuck out of the way.

Chuck sighed. "True enough. Carmichael could say 'Good morning' and make you wonder if it was either."

"You got that right," said Casey. "Now sit down, shut up, and settle in. You want to be ready in case they need us."

* * *

Later, in the air…

The noise woke Casey. Gunfire and explosions. No, that wasn't it. He could sleep through an artillery barrage, if it was someone else's.

Laughter, idiot comments, and trash-talking. No one could sleep through that. He looked at Chuck, frantically busy with a tablet, playing some game. "What the hell are you doing, moron?" he snarled. "I thought I told you to settle in."

"I am, I mean, I was going to, but I wanted to chill with some COD and then these new reflexes kicked in and–"

Casey walked right through the monologue and snatched the pad from his hand. "Gimme. Now go to sleep."

Chuck couldn't get angry, his body agreed with his handler. "Fine. Be that way, Mr. Grumpypants." He rolled over.

Casey turned. "What did you just call me?" But Chuck was snoring at the wall and didn't answer him.

* * *

The noise woke Chuck. Laughter, idiot comments, and trash-talking. No, that wasn't it. He could sleep through a Halo marathon, if it was someone else's.

Gunfire and explosions, though? No one could sleep through that. He fumbled in his pocket and got out his earbuds, throwing them over his shoulder at the noise.

Unfortunately, when it came to taking hints, Casey went to the same school Carina did.

* * *

Chuck flung himself sideways, absorbing the impact with his shoulder while his other hand aimed straight and true, finger flexing. His target didn't fall.

"I dropped an ice cube, idiot," said Casey, waving his glass in the air. He took a sip. "Good reflexes, though, you would've dropped me if you'd actually had a gun."

Chuck pushed himself off the ground, rubbing his shoulder as he reseated himself. "You don't mind that I just tried to shoot you? Isn't that something Carmichael would do?"

Casey grunted an amused negative. "Carmichael would've remembered he was unarmed."

* * *

Later, on the ground in Oregon…

FBI Special Agents Charles and Casey produced their credentials at the gate and asked to speak with the warden, but even so were made to wait for the man himself. "What can I do for you gentlemen?"

Chuck took point, of course. "We have reliable intel that an attempt will be made to break out one of your prisoners in the near future, a charming fellow named the Gobbler," he drawled in his Mr. Charles persona.

"Try the recent past. Some black-haired bitch in a catsuit just loaded him in a medical van and drove right out the front gate."

Agent Charles looked at Agent Casey. "Sounds like the Black Widow."

Agent Casey nodded silently.

"Who's the Black Widow?" asked the warden.

Chuck turned back to him. "We'll take it from here. Why a medical van?"

The warden wasn't quite so ready to yield. "The guy she took was getting some shots. We're holding the medical team, in case they were accomplices. She also killed a guard. Guy just had a birthday, too."

"That's…not the Black Widow's M.O.," said Agent Charles. "She's no killer, and she works alone. We'll need to see the crime scene, right now."

"We'll have to go the long way around, unless you got a riot squad in your pocket."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"The dead guard was monitoring the rec room. Without him things got out of hand. Normally we just let them pound themselves into the ground but that could take a while."

"If your incarcerated population thinks I'm going to wait until they've settled their affairs they are sorely mistaken. Lead the way."

The warden shook his head, but did as he was told. They could have found it without him, just by following the noise. "My, my, my, what a mess."

"That ping-pong table was new, too. Gonna be a while before we can requisition another one."

Chuck turned to Casey. "John, would do me a favor and hold my glasses?" As Casey took them, Chuck added for the warden's benefit, "They break real easy." He waded into the swirling mass of orange jumpsuits.

The noise level dropped precipitously. At some point the melee got below critical mass, and the whole thing just….stopped.

Chuck stood in the center of a sprawled mess. He straightened his tie. "What seems to be the problem, gentlemen?"

For a second no one said anything, then, "Big Lou stole the crip's applesauce!"

"You're dead," shouted someone big enough to be Lou, but 'the crip' was a little harder to spot. Chuck saw bandages on the side of the room, out of the fight. The guy was missing three fingers from his left hand.

Chuck turned to Lou, shaking his head. "As if this little valley in your life's road wasn't deep enough." He walked up to the man. "I hope that applesauce was real good, Lou, 'cause I intend to…study you." He walked around his new subject. "Every dirty secret, every dark deed, brought to light. No more applesauce for you, ever." Lou raised a hand. "Oh, please don't assault me now, Lou, that would just send you down a rat-hole too damned quick." Lou's hand went down. "Much better. See, your valley don't have to be as deep as all that."

Chuck turned his back on Lou. "Gentlemen, you are impeding a federal investigation. A guard has been murdered, so unless you want to be considered accomplices after the fact I suggest you step aside."

The prisoners weren't utter idiots. "Where's Steve?" "Was it Steve?" "The guy just had his birthday! I saw 'em with the cake and everything."

"You saw _who _with a cake?"

"The other guards."

Chuck turned to the warden. "I trust birthday parties on duty are not standard procedure."

The warden looked his men over grimly. Someone's career would suffer for this, but it wouldn't be his. "No, sir, they are not."

"Probably a diversion," said Casey.

"Of what?" asked Chuck. "To what? And why?" He looked at the inmates. "Well, I doubt we'll find any answers here." Suddenly he stood in middle of a vast empty space, as everyone found something more interesting to do. "Shall we?"

* * *

One crime scene investigation later…

The box of bagged and labeled evidence went into the trunk. The two women of the medical team, possible accomplices, were cuffed and stuffed in the back seat, as the FBI agents drove out of the prison to pursue the Black Widow.

Or something like that.

"Can we stop and get these cuffs off, please?" asked Ellie.

Carina brought her hands around front. "Got you covered, Doctor."

Casey looked in the rear-view. "Do you wear those things all the time?"

"Please don't answer that," said Chuck. "Did you get your shot in?"

Carina opened her hand, revealing the mini-syringe. "I hope so. I think it went in when she blocked my punch, but we weren't expecting that leather outfit."

"You'd better have a lot more to this plan of yours than hope," said Chuck dangerously.

"It's not my plan, it's Hannah's," said Carina quickly. Casey got out his phone, and made a call.

Chuck sidelined his angst for the moment. "Hannah's on the team now? Great," he said, smiling. Then he stopped smiling. "No, not great. Now I have to come up with code names for her too."

"Maybe you should let _her_ be 'Bedrock'," said Carina sourly, remembering the codename Chuck tried to foist off on her long ago.

"Hey, don't blame me. How was I to know you were upgrading your banter?" said Chuck. "It's good, though, she seems like a sort of bedrock-y kind of person. But we still need something to go with the whole optical motif…"

"Chuck, focus," said Ellie. "Your wife is at the heart of a criminal's lair, a proper codename is hardly the priority right now."

"She's not at the heart of it," said Casey, putting away his phone. "But she's on her way. Beckman says the trackers you injected her with are moving steadily toward Moscow. Once the antitoxin clears her head, we'll have a perfect mole."

Chuck unsidelined his angst, slapped it around a bit, and stuffed it in a box, next to his concerns about Hannah's other codename. "So what's the play?"

Casey nodded. "We position ourselves for an extraction, and wait for her to contact us."

"Boy, I wish your plan had some specifics to it."

"We check the van they found. Then Ellie and Carina are going back to DC, Manoosh has something for Ellie to look at. You and me? We're going to Prague."

* * *

At that moment, in the air over the Pacific…

The guard pounded on the door. "Give suit!"

The door opened, but she already had the robe on and he couldn't see anything, even in the mirror, before she blocked his view. "Take suit," she snapped, shoving it at him.

Disappointed, he stalked back to the waiting techs and threw the suit at them. They didn't bother with a visual inspection, not with the floor show they expected as soon as the bitch came out of the bathroom. Instead they just ran a hand scanner over the outside of the suit. The scanner wasn't programmed for pinholes, nor was it powerful enough to detect the presence of the trackers smeared all over the inside of one sleeve.

Inside the bathroom, Sarah checked the itching spot on her arm, but saw no wound. She scrubbed harder at it, until the itch went away.

* * *

**A/N2 **I have no idea where the riot scene came from. When I was writing Chuck's lines I kept going back and forth between Tommy Lee Jones and Nicholas Cage on the accent.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N **This story is going to start out in Gobbler territory but it will veer off into very different terrain.

* * *

"_I need to get to Oregon as soon as possible." _

"_I really need to talk to you about Chuck." _

"_Carmichael would've remembered he was unarmed."_

"_We're going to Prague."_

* * *

In the air, on the way back to DC…

"And you're sure the needle went in, Agent Miller?"

"Yes, General."

"Good. We're getting a good signal from the tracking bots suspended in the antitoxin, so Hannah estimates a dosage above the minimum."

Chuck raise a hand.

"Yes, Mr. Bartowski?"

"Hannah's new code name is 'Bedrock', General, just thought I'd mention that. We don't have one for the other motif yet."

"Chuck, focus. This is not the time." The monitor on the conference room table was small, but still Diane Beckman managed to dominate the room. "Ellie, any idea how long it would take for the anti-toxin itself to work?"

"I have no baseline, General, and this action was uncontrolled. It appears to take effect more slowly than the toxin when both are inhaled, and the injected toxin took effect pretty quickly, compared to the inhaled variety. Those are the only data points I have. Hopefully she'll come to her senses on the way back, but it may take longer."

"But the operation itself went exactly as expected," said Beckman, nodding. "That's both a pleasure, and a surprise."

"Not…exactly as expected, General," said Casey. "A guard was killed, with a knife like Agent Bartowski's. Chuck and I had to extract Ellie and Carina as suspects."

It's always something. "Did she throw it?"

* * *

The reunion between Volkoff and his chief henchman was touching, and typically Russian, although Volkoff had to stretch a bit to do the hug.

"You said it was a suicide mission," said Sarah softly to Frost, as they watched Yuri stammer out an apology.

"I did."

"It went off like clockwork," said Sarah. "They never even knew I was there until after I'd gone, if they ever found out at all. How is that suicide?"

Volkoff drew his gun and shot Yuri in the head. The walls were already pretty much that same color, so it wasn't as noticeable as it might have been, unless you were standing directly behind him. The cleaning lady would need a ladder.

Frost nodded. "Yuri failed, but he came back anyway. That was suicide."

"Father?" said the third witness in the room, as Volkoff went to the corpse.

"Yes, Vivian darling?" asked Volkoff as he knelt.

"Did you just kill your chief bodyguard?"

"Oh, Yuri was never my bodyguard, chief or otherwise," said Volkoff, digging at the dead man's face. "He just looked the part. What he really guarded was something infinitely more precious." He looked up sheepishly. "It'll be just a minute."

"Would you like Sarah to help?" asked Frost. "She's good with eyes."

Volkoff laughed, almost covering the little sucking sound. "I've got it." He held up a glass eye in glistening fingers.

Vivian was less than impressed. "That is more precious than you?"

"The only reason I'm not dead long since is that no one could ever find this," said Volkoff, going to his desk. "This is my entire database, and more. I call it Hydra." He pressed a button and a complicated-looking mechanism rose out of his desk. He set the false eye carefully on the center disk, setting the outer arms spinning, laser heads reading the complicated crystalline structure like a book.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why call it Hydra? Wouldn't Argos or Odin have been more appropriate?"

Alexei gave her a fond and proud look. He turned to his other ladies. "Benefits of a classical education." He turned back to his daughter. "Odin traded his vision for foresight. This eye is very much in the here and now. Argos watched and waited, but _this_ eye is meant for battle. This is the heart of Volkoff Industries!"

"Your entire database?"

"Communications protocols." Glowing holographic panels popped up. "Code keys." More panels. "Encryption keys, flow charts. The entire puzzle, all in here."

"Yuri carried your whole organization?" asked Frost.

_No wonder she could never find it,_ thought Sarah.

"He did," said Volkoff, as the screens faded and the arms stilled. "But I don't think he'll be carrying it anymore." He set the eye down, and picked up a small metal statue of a horse.

"You're not going to smash it," said Vivian, horrified. "It's your life's work."

"The data is my life's work," corrected her father. "But I just downloaded that to a more secure back-up location, another head to replace the one I just lost, thanks to Mr. Charles."

Vivian bristled. "Don't blame Chuck–Mr. Charles–for Yuri's own weaknesses."

"Human error, then. In any event, this is just glass." He raised the statue again.

She reached out a hand to stop him. "May I have it?"

"Do you want it?" he asked. "I had planned to give it to you, of course, but with a bit more, you know, presentation. A nice box, a card, perhaps, although I don't suppose they make cards for empire-building…" He put down the statue, and picked up the eye.

Vivian held out her hand.

He started to give it to her, but stopped. "One moment." He reached for a tissue.

She raised her hand, wrapping her fingers around the slimy sphere. "No need."

Alexei grinned. "That's my girl!"

Vivian turned to the other women, one in particular. "Would you like to see it, Agent Walker?" she asked, squeezing her hand. The eye popped up between her thumb and forefinger, and she held it out. "After all, you've gotten closer than anyone in your whole organization to the heart of my father's empire. I'm sure you'll treasure the memory as you go back home to tell your superiors all about how you brought it back to us."

"Don't tease the operatives, daughter," chided Volkoff. "It's gauche."

_The fun things usually are. _"Yes, Father."

"And besides, it sets a poor tone for future relations with your new employees."

* * *

Officer Davis met Carina at the airport and took her into custody. Ellie wanted to get her husband home even more, if such a thing can be imagined, but not for the same reason.

"Whoa, Europe?" asked Devon. Chuck had always wanted to go to Europe.

"_Eastern_ Europe, Devon," said Ellie. "Not France. Can't this thing go any faster?"

"It's a Sienna, babe," said Devon mildly, hitting his blinker. "Five star crash test safety rating, not so hot with the drag racing."

Ellie leaned her head back against the headrest. "I can't wait to get my Dad's car."

"It got here yesterday."

_Boing_! "It what?"

"Your lab guy brought it to the house, seemed kind of disappointed you weren't here. I hope you weren't planning to put a baby seat in that thing, we only got one and I mounted it in here already."

"No, honey," she said through clenched teeth. "No car seat."

* * *

Casey made Chuck follow him to his car.

"Where are we going?" asked Chuck. "It's not like we're going to _drive_ to Prague." Then he remembered who he was talking to, and made sure to buckle up. "Is it?"

"Gotta swing by the house, pack a few things, set the security," said Casey. "We're gonna be gone a while. Could be months."

"Months? I can't be gone months, I have to be here for Sarah."

Casey pulled out before Chuck could unbuckle. "In case you missed it, Bartowski, the missus is in Moscow, so you'll be closer to her where we're going than you are right now."

Not much of a consolation. "But why do I even need to go to Prague?"

Casey never ceased to be amazed at how stupid smart people could be. "Because there's more to being an agent than swinging from rooftops and defusing bombs, numb-nuts. Sometimes the most important thing is to stand still, don't move, and above all shut up for hours at a time, all of which are skills you need to learn. The name of this game is patience, not Superman."

"I prefer Batman, he was a real hero."

Casey grunted his approval. Maybe Bruce Wayne was a gazillionaire, but he didn't rest on that. "He had to work for it. No radioactive spiders for him."

"Don't go dissing the web-slinger." Chuck wasn't a gazillionaire. He'd have to work harder for… what? "What 'it' am I working for?"

"You called yourself a Special Agent, Bartowski. You need a paper trail. Some General may want to know someday how well you did resisting interrogations, and they're not gonna buy 'they told me to faint' as an approved technique."

"I take it back."

Casey laughed, and shook his head. "I don't think so. You just gave the General three years of past due Christmas presents, Bartowski. You're hers now."

"Uh…"

"Pending Sarah's approval, that is."

* * *

Sarah brushed right past Vivian. "I don't work for you!"

"Then you have a problem," said Alexei. "A prison guard was killed by a thrown knife, bearing your fingerprints. Your accomplice was found murdered, shot in the back with your gun. Your face and hair were caught on surveillance footage, and a woman matching your description was last seen boarding a bus for parts unknown. The authorities in Oregon and its surrounding environs are a bit…vexed."

"No one on my team will believe that."

"I imagine not," said Volkoff amiably. "And once we've dropped you off, in Portland, say, or Seattle, you may manage to avoid a deadly hail of bullets long enough to contact them."

Sarah opened her mouth, to tell him just how willing she was, to take her chances.

He took a step forward. "But before that, there is still the matter of your compensation."

_Huh? _She took a step back. "You don't owe me anything."

"I meant what you owe me, Agent Walker. You blinded my man, and our arrangement is on a quid pro quo basis."

* * *

Once they got home Ellie practically dragged Devon into the house with her. "Sit," she commanded, turning on the TV.

General Beckman appeared on the screen. "Good evening, Ellie, I hope you had a pleasant flight."

No small talk today. "General, you can't send Chuck to Prague!"

Beckman rearranged herself into a more official posture. "Doctor, I have to send Chuck to Prague. Unless you want him dead, pretty quickly."

Ellie's face went utterly still. "You wouldn't kill him…"

Devon sat forward and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"I have no such intention, but I wouldn't have to," said Beckman. "As skilled as he is, Chuck's understanding of our world is still primarily informed by action movies and comic books–"

"Graphic novels." Chuck said it so often it came automatically from Ellie's mouth.

Beckman ignored the correction. "The Intersect has unfortunately reinforced some of his beliefs about our work. It attracts the heavy hitters, so to speak, from both sides. He needs to learn to bunt, as well as swing for the fences."

Ellie's face wrinkled in confusion. "Why all the sports metaphors?"

"Because I know some of those. I've never read a comic book and I don't intend to start." Plus Ellie's husband was a sports nut and he sat right there, so hopefully bringing him into the conversation would get his wife's mind out of its relentlessly negative rut. Beckman took a calming breath. "Out in the field, a blown cover or failed seduction will get him just as dead as any ultimate weapon."

"I thought we agreed he wouldn't go out in the field."

"No," said the General tersely. "You agreed. I merely accepted the situation. I've been wanting him in a more active role ever since he uploaded the 2.0, but without his willing participation there was nothing I could do." Back then, Ellie and Sarah between them had united to keep Chuck out of the fold. Today the two of them had managed to bring him into it. Beckman refrained from pointing out the irony of that.

Ellie tried again. "So…what, he calls himself an agent once and you jump on him like a live grenade?"

Beckman smiled. "Only heroes jump on live grenades, Ellie. I'm no hero, but I recognize one when I see one." Beckman kept her gaze on Ellie until the younger woman looked away. "Don't chicken out on me now."

Ellie sagged. "Cluck, cluck."

"Now why don't I believe you," said the General. "He is what he is, Ellie, what you made him to be. We can't keep him safe. Just safer."

* * *

Manoosh was practically vibrating when Ellie finally managed to drag herself in the door the next day. He'd left her father's car at the house, but kept the laptop with him.

In a way, Ellie was grateful for that. Devon deserved her time and loving attention far more even than Chuck, much less some stupid computer. She was so lucky to have him in her life, keeping her grounded through all this craziness, and last night was all about showing him that she knew it.

Manoosh pointed to her desk when she showed no sign of wanting to look there on her own.

The lid to the laptop looked ominous all by itself, like a Decepticon staring at her. The lights moving back and forth reminded her of Cylon optics. If her brother survived CIA training she was going to kill him herself for putting all these images in her head. She cleared her throat. "So that's it? And you got it working?"

He pounced on the machine, popping the lid. The screen lit with words she couldn't read from where she was, so she moved. "Knock, knock."

"I already tried 'who's there'," said Manoosh. "It was stupid, I know…" Not that Orion would have done anything to him for trying.

"It wouldn't have worked," said Ellie, glad that she didn't have to say what he so obviously knew. "This is one of my father's puzzles, like a code. Only the person with the key can solve it."

"So who has this key?"

"I do," said Ellie. "Possibly Chuck, too, but he would know this was meant for me. My father would play the 'knock, knock' game with me and I would get the answer wrong, and he would laugh. He sounded so happy I never wanted to say it right." She raised her fingers to the keyboard, and Manoosh held his breath. "No," she said suddenly, and he wilted. "Let's not both make the same mistake. Get me some glasses."

He brought two.

Eyes shaded, she raised her hands again, and typed 'I'm here' into the box.

* * *

Less than a day later (or thereabouts, what with time zone shifts and travel time factored in)…

Chuck and Casey walked along the platform at Nadrazi Station, Chuck enjoying the visuals of the city as he watched for snipers, Casey just watching for snipers.

"Okay, identity check. What's your name?"

"Hi, my name is Charles Charles."

"You're obviously married. What's your wife's name?"

"Mrs. Charles, and what do you mean, 'obviously married'?"

"Well, aside from the ring, you couldn't look less available if you tried. Where's the wife now?"

"I'd tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."

"Good answer. Now, everybody knows who Agent Charles is. Why is he here?"

"Refresher training."

"Right. Unfortunately for you, inter-office politics and clerical shenanigans have had your assignment changed from refresher training to the full course. How do you plan to take this?"

"Uh, lying down?"

"No. With good grace."

"Isn't that the same as lying down?"

"Yeah, but it sounds better."

Chuck indicated a sleek, modern, high-tech-looking train a short way down the platform from them. "Is that for us?"

"Of course it is, Mr. Charles," said Casey. "All secret CIA training facilities have trains leading to them." He shook his head. "This is just a drop point."

"Dropping what?"

"You." Casey pretended to check points, but really he was avoiding Chuck's gaze. "Mrs. Agent Charles, wherever she is, hasn't checked in yet, they want me to try to contact her, find out what she's up to."

"So you're abandoning me in Prague."

Casey dug a finger in Chuck's chest, suddenly very focused. "I've never abandoned any of _my_ men anywhere, and I'm not about to start now. We're just waiting for–" Casey stopped and sniffed the air. "Hector?"

"God-_damn-_it!"

"Get out here, you old hound," said Casey.

A man slightly younger-looking than Casey stepped out of a doorway. Chuck's eyes watered as he approached.

"Mr. Charles, this here is Hector Calderon, a great soldier but only a passable agent. He can do everything but sneak up on you. He'll take you to the facility." Casey made a gesture, and Hector went to get the car.

_Windows open, I hope. _"So I can trust him?" asked Chuck doubtfully, in his absence.

"No of course you can't trust him, idiot," snapped Casey, pleased on the inside. "If there's one lesson this place can drill into that thick skull of yours, let it be that one. I'm your handler. The only people you can trust are me and the people I tell you to trust. No one else. You got that?"

"You're leaving the country."

"Yeah, so?"

* * *

Frost roamed the grounds, searching for someone who didn't want to be found. Black hair, black clothes, in the dark, Sarah might have succeeded with someone else. But Frost knew the grounds and all the security vulnerabilities intimately. "Alexei has a job for you."

Sarah wasn't even looking until Frost stepped right into her path. "I don't work for him."

Frost stepped closer. "No, you don't, Agent Walker, but we've cut off one escape route for Hydra and we need to capture it before Alexei can make another, so if you ever want to see Chuck again you'd better be working for _me_. Is that clear?"

Sarah shivered. _Never see Chuck? _"It's clear."

"Good. Then let's try that again. Alexei has a job for you."

_I'm sorry. _Sarah took a deep breath. "Fine. Lead the way."

* * *

He was tall, and bald, clad in leather and pointy-toed boots. He walked like he could kick the ass of any man in the room and he knew it. The only man in the room was Charles Charles, blinking and bleary from litle sleep, much abuse, and some powerful pharmaceuticals, but he remembered his briefing. _Javier Cruz is a vital operative in the Ring's Mexican Syndicate._

"You're going to tell me everything, Mr. Charles. All the secrets you know. Who you are. Who you work for," said Javier, punctuating his comments with random kicks and punches. "And then you're gonna tell me about the girl."

Chuck slid down the wall, trying to breathe. _Girl? What girl?_

Prague. Week Two.

* * *

**A/N2 **The Gobbler episode ended on a bit of a down note, so this will as well. It will be a while yet before they take Volkoff . I always thought that went just too damn fast.


End file.
